There Is No Real Ending. It’s Just

We Sift Reality Through Screens Composed Of Ideas . (and Such Ideas Have Their Roots In Older Ideas.) Such Idea Systems Are Necessarily Limited By Language , By The Ways We Can Describe Them. That Is To Say: Language Cuts The Grooves In Which Our Thoughts Move. If We Seek New Validity Forms (other Laws And Other Orders) We Must Step Outside Language.

How Often It Is That The Angry Man Rages Denial Of What His Inner Self Is Telling Him.

If You Want Immortality, Then Deny Form. Whatever Has Form Has Mortality. Beyond Form Is The Formless, The Immortal.

My Lungs Taste The Air Of Time,blown Past Falling Sands.

Who Are The Rabble And Who Are The Ruled?